Mother 'A Letter From Ma Unborn Baby' 1
I saw with the majic water,
She changes it every four weeks,
She has another to replace the former,
This exchange is done neatly.
A woman with water is eagerly waiting
to for a clay,
Ready to mould and to design a shape,
She is ready to nurture,
She is born with that culture.
The clay has been given to you,
The man has done all He could,
By searching out the clay,
The job is to begin without delay.
Now, let the art work begin.
Healthy warmt to keep it safe is within.
With her water, she have the clay
thoroughly mixed.
Simultaneously done, she never miss.
She sat down before her potter's wheel,
On it she placed the clay that have
been mixed,
The time she spend doesn't matter,
Done in pain and stress, she doesn't
bother.
Finishing this job isn't easy,
The pain are much and there's lot of
crying,
But she'll hold on and keep trying,
To deliver a perfectly moulded baby.
I wish that could be enough,
But no! She didn't have to stop.
New moulded pot,
Has to be properly burnt.
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